


Venus' Looking Glass

by cassbutt_67



Series: To Speak the Language of Flowers [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Barista Castiel, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Florist Dean, M/M, coffee shop AU, eventually, traumatic past, what else do I put here?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7619323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbutt_67/pseuds/cassbutt_67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is getting his life back together. After so much past trauma, it's nice to just work at the coffee shop with Ellen and Jo. It's a simple life, but it's his and he's proud of it. After living in the city and working at the café for a few months, Cas receives a strange but lovely note at the end of his shift. This confuses Cas because he really doesn't have any friends, and doesn't speak with anyone outside the coffee shop. Who would his admirer be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venus' Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is very much welcome! But please be kind, this is my first fanfic I've ever written...I hope you enjoy! Feel free to comment or leave kudos if you like it. Be aware this is not edited, I just wrote it this morning because it was an idea in my head...
> 
> Inspired by the novel "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh  
> Reference for flower meanings: http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html
> 
> *Disclaimer, I do not own any characters of Supernatural but the storyline is my own.

It had been weeks. It was just charming in the beginning, but now he was starting to feel a blossoming infatuation, something that scared him in the most exhilarating way. He stared at the thing, taking the soft petals between two of his calloused fingers. There was no doubt in his mind whose doing this was, but he wanted to see how long he could keep the game going.

It began one late April morning, the very start of tourist season. Castiel had been working at the Harvelle’s for months now, and he was proud of himself for holding a job this long. Having recently decided to turn his life around, he began going to therapy, even went as far as agreeing to medication. It helped, and soon he was beginning to feel adventurous enough to apply for an actual job, one that entailed leaving the apartment he’d been living in for nearly a year and a half. Harvelle’s was a tiny, quaint coffeeshop within a local bookstore called Le Velo Rouge run by some of the kindest people Castiel had ever met. They had hired him within two days of his interview, which he thought had gone terribly. He was practically shaking with nerves, sweating, and stuttering his way through the simple questions. Ellen, the owner, was kind though, and told him over the phone that he would be perfect for the job.

So there he was. Living in the city on his own with an actual job. He never believed he would make it this far, despite the fact that he sometimes felt his life was a bit too simple. Whenever thoughts like this crossed his mind, he reminded himself of how far he had come. This simplicity sure as hell beat the chaos of the past, and he might as well take the time and enjoy it while it lasted.

This particular April morning was quite typical. Castiel woke at 4:00, climbed out of bed and showered quickly, throwing clothes on as he packed his work bag. He was responsible for making the bagels at the coffeeshop, a job that he prided himself in but also resented, as he truly despised mornings. He didn’t mind, however, because beginning work so early meant he had time to be alone at the shop. He took the time to focus only on making the bagels, a process which put his mind at ease; he found it relaxing.

Grabbing his keys from the hook by the door, he locked up and jaunted down the stairs to the street in front of the apartment complex. He climbed into his old beater of a Volkswagen and made his way down the street to the bookstore. Everything was going as planned. He made the bagels, humming a tune to himself as he worked the dough. Eventually, Ellen and her daughter Jo came through the doors with a friendly, “Hey Castiel!”

He smiled and nodded at them, drawing up the day’s specials on the chalkboard beside the register. Jo began brewing the coffee while Ellen set up the register. Inhaling deeply, Cas sighed with contentment. He loved the smell of coffee mingling with the printed pages of new and old books. Flipping the sign at the window to “open”, he took his place behind the register and waited for the college kids outside to come in and place their usual orders.

Sometime in the early afternoon, just before his lunch break, Castiel shifted his gaze from the register to the next customer only to feel his heart leap into his throat. He knew this face; he had seen this man many times in the past three months of working at the café.

“Hey, Cas,” the man smiled, crinkling the corners of his stunningly green eyes.

Ellen had introduced Castiel to Dean Winchester when he began working at Harvelle’s. She had told him he was like a son to her along with his little brother, Sam, their mother having passed away when they were young. She had been good friends with their father, John, before the boys were born and she would watch them whenever John needed to go away on business. Castiel still hadn’t spoken much with him, but he periodically came into the coffee shop and he seemed like a pleasant enough person. Had Cas been more socially apt and less anxious, he may have tried to get to know him better. Alas, his social anxiety kept him from doing so, particularly after moving to the city, trying to start afresh.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel nodded, trying his best to keep his smile small and casual. “What can I help you with?”

Dean ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Ah, I was thinking a cheddar bagel toasted with butter and a black coffee.”

“Good choice,” he said as he rang in the order.

While waiting for the bagel to finish toasting, Castiel sneaked glances at Dean, who was absently scanning the titles of the magazines on a nearby shelf. He tried his best to keep his eyes focused on the back of his dirty blonde head, with little success. The man was simply beautiful. And, Cas had to admit, his ass looked /amazing/ in those jeans.

“Eh hem.” He jolted back to reality, turning to see Ellen, her eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. The smell of burned bagel rose quickly to his nostrils.

“What the hell are you doing, Mr. Novak?” she said half sternly, half amused. She reached in front of him to remove the smouldering bagel and replaced it with a new one.

“I--”

“Get your head out of your ass, boy,” she said quietly, quickly adding, “and keep your eyes off of his while you’re working.”

He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t--”

She gave him one of those looks. “Honey, take your break after this order.”

She patted his shoulder, making her way to the back room. Castiel nodded curtly, filling Dean’s coffee and placing the lid over the cup. Setting the buttered bagel in the bag, he passed it along with the coffee across the counter.

“Dean,” he said. The man turned and smiled as he took his order.

“Thanks, Cas. See you around.”

“See you.”

Sighing, Cas walked to the back room to eat his lunch as Jo took over the register. Ellen was sitting at the table finishing up a sandwich while reading a magazine.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” she said casually.

Castiel sat across from her. “I, ah, suppose I don’t usually use labels.” He removed his leftover pasta from his bag and began eating. “I don’t really have a gender preference. I just like people.”

“I see. Well you know, Dean’s available.”

He nearly choked on his pasta. “Um, well I don’t--”

Ellen chuckled. “You really need to loosen up, kid. Why don’t you ask him out?”

“I can’t do that, Ellen.” He had never told anyone the extent of his anxiety, though she had a hunch it was much worse than he led on.

She simply nodded and stood from her chair, making her way back to the café. “Who knows what could happen.”

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of coffees, bagels, and baked goods. As the sun illuminated the cityscape, Castiel and the Harvelle’s began to close up. Jo approached Cas at the register, smirking.

“You’ve got an admirer, Castiel,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

She indicated a small piece of paper and what looked to be a flower sitting on the edge of the counter at the pick-up window. He walked over and took it in his hands. The note said: To Castiel, a Venus’ looking glass. That was all. He examined the tiny purple flowers lining the stalk of the small plant. It was quite lovely, but who would leave him flowers?

“Who left this?” he asked.

Jo shrugged. “Beats me, but whoever it is, they like you.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “But why a Venus’ looking glass? That’s apparently what kind of flower this is…”

Ellen came around the corner, throwing on her jacket. “Maybe you should look it up. Maybe it means something.”

He nodded. “Maybe I will.”

They ambled outside, making their way to their respective vehicles. “Have a good night, Cas. Don’t fret too much about the flower.”

He waved at them as they pulled out of the parking lot. “I won’t, have a good night.”

On his way home, Castiel stopped at the library to see about this flower. It was a little unsettling to him that someone would leave such a note. Although he assumed they meant well, he wanted to be sure there was no secret meaning behind such a flower. As he made his way through the library, he chuckled to himself. _Being a tad paranoid aren’t we?_ But still, better safe than sorry.

As it turned out, there was in fact a book available at the library about meanings of flowers. He opened it in his lap as he sat between the book stacks on the worn carpet. It referenced a “language” of flowers used in Victorian times. This made Cas’ heart rate increase just the slightest bit as he diligently searched for his flower.

He tilted his head in confusion as he read: Venus’ looking glass - flattery. Was this someone’s way of trying to flatter him? This was both slightly frightening and perhaps promising, if not only entertaining. He tried to reason with himself as thoughts raced through his mind of admiring strangers, _This doesn’t mean anything. It’s one flower. One note. How do you even know this person even meant the flower to mean this?_

In spite of himself, Castiel began flipping through the pages of the book for a response to this stranger, whomever they may be.


End file.
